The Monster's Lover (The Fenris Series Book 1)

by Samantha MacLeod

  Nøkkyn raised an eyebrow at me. “Is that so?”

  He moved so quickly I didn’t have time to react. His right fist connected with my jaw, knocking me backward, and pain blossomed across my face. I cried out as I landed, hard, on a jagged rock. My mouth filled with the sting of blood. I tried to push myself up with my hands, and pain surged through the leg that had collided with the rock.

  Nøkkyn laughed, lowering himself to grab my thighs. I stopped struggling as he crawled on top of me, one leg on either side of my body. Ma’s voice rang through my head in a frantic litany. Don’t ever disagree with him. Try to make him laugh.

  I closed my eyes when I felt the heat of Nøkkyn’s breath on my cheek. Don’t ever tell him no, Ma had said. His cock pressed into my stomach like a steel rod, and it was suddenly very hard for me to breathe. Somewhere behind us, his stallion gave a great, high whinny.

  Nøkkyn sank his hand into my hair again, forcing my head back. He took a deep breath, running a gloved hand along my breast slowly, almost gently. I froze. My heart hammered against my ribcage as though it were trying to escape.

  “Let me make one thing perfectly clear,” he said, his voice calm and level. “I don’t give a damn what you think.”

  I shivered. His hand dropped lower, pulling the shreds of Ma’s dress off my stomach. My body shuddered in response.

  “I’m going to fuck you now,” he said, his gloved fingers sinking into the skin above my thighs. “And you’re going to lay here and take it. Whore.”

  Panic blossomed in my chest. His touch was suddenly unbearable. My hands scraped along the ground, desperate for purchase, as I rocked my hips, trying to wiggle out from under him. His hand tightened in my hair, pulling my head back so hard tears filled my eyes.

  “Do you understand?” he said.

  “No,” I gasped through my puffy, swollen lips. “Please, no!”

  He smiled. “Good.”

  I saw the flash of his gloved hand from the corner of my eye.

  This time, the force of his blow drove my head to the ground. My skull filled with white sparks, then faded to a dull red roar of pain. I blinked, trying to clear my vision as tree trunks wavered above me. My right eye burned, refusing to focus.

  “That’s good,” Nøkkyn said, his voice as calm as if he’d been discussing the weather. “I like it when you scream.”

  He pushed himself up, and I stared at him, my body running cold with dread. He towered above me, a hard smile on his thin lips, his erection looming enormous and dark in his black pants. His long, pale fingers moved across his waist, and I realized with a slowly dawning horror that he was undoing his belt. My stomach flipped over.

  I’d thought perhaps my time with King Nøkkyn wouldn’t hurt because I’d already given my maidenhead to my demon, Fenris. Sometimes, when I was trying desperately to find a silver lining to the dark cloud that had eclipsed my life, I told myself I may learn to enjoy being Nøkkyn’s whore. But the hard smile on those lips, and the throbbing pain from his blows, left absolutely no doubt. This was going to hurt.

  Nøkkyn wanted it to hurt.

  I pressed myself up to sitting and shoved back, away from him, scraping my skin against the rock under my thighs. Behind me, Nøkkyn’s horse screamed. Despite myself, I turned toward the animal. The great stallion was straining against his tether, his white eyes huge and rolling. Foam flecked his mouth as his silver-clad hooves churned the ground below him.

  “What the fuck—” Nøkkyn began.

  The stallion reared, and the leather strap holding him to the tree snapped. With a great, panicked scream, the animal vanished into the Ironwood.

  Nøkkyn roared in rage, and I scrambled to my feet, thanking that beautiful animal with every bit of love in my heart. I backed away from Nøkkyn and glanced into the forest, frantically wondering how far and how fast I could possibly run.

  Something moved in the shadows.

  Something immense, so huge it was nigh unimaginable. Nøkkyn froze as the thing stepped into sight, shattering branches as it approached.

  It was black, even blacker than Nøkkyn’s vanished stallion. And it was larger as well; its shoulder rose at least as high as the proud head of Nøkkyn’s great steed. Its blue eyes flashed in anger as its lip curled back to reveal a row of white teeth longer and thicker than my arm.

  With a blur of motion, the thing’s great paw pinned Nøkkyn to the forest floor. He screamed, but I barely noticed. The enormous black wolf’s pale eyes were fixed on me.

  The beast lowered its jaw until it was level with my bruised and bleeding face. Its mouth opened, and it spoke in a man’s voice. A voice I knew very well.

  “Sol,” the monster said. “You’re hurt!”

  I tried to force my suddenly dry mouth to form words.

  “Fenris?” I gasped.

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  The great wolf didn’t respond. I stared at him as his gaze moved slowly across my face. His massive eyes were the color of the winter sky at dawn.

  They were the exact same shade of blue as my lover’s eyes.

  All this time, I’d thought my secret lover had taken the name Fenris as a harmless bit of bravado, almost a joke, as if he were laughing at the dangers of the Ironwood. Now, as I stood with my puffy, split lip leaking blood into my mouth and my right eye swollen shut, another explanation for his strange name finally dawned on me. A far simpler explanation.

  My lover was the Fenris-wolf. He was the monster of the Ironwood Forest.

  “I-I’m—” I stammered.

  Fenris’s lips pulled back into a snarl, and a low, booming rumble filled the air, making my entire body shake. Fenris turned his massive head to the man pinned beneath his paw. Nøkkyn writhed under Fenris’s claws like an insect.

  “You hurt her!” he growled. “I’ll kill you for this!”

  A vision of the stony-faced guard sitting on his horse outside our cabin flashed through my mind. If King Nøkkyn didn’t return, what would that soldier do to our home? To my mother?

  “No!” I screamed.

  Fenris turned back to me, his bright eyes wide. “Why? This man hurt you.”

  “This,” I said, taking a deep breath, “is King Nøkkyn.”

  Fenris eased back slightly, allowing Nøkkyn to scramble to his feet. The king’s pinched, white face was incandescent with rage.

  “So? What is King Nøkkyn to you?” Fenris asked.

  “She’s my whore,” Nøkkyn said.

  Fenris’s low rumbling growl filled the forest again. “Is this true?” he demanded.

  My stomach curdled, and I dropped my head to my hands. There it was; everything I’d failed to tell him. The secret I’d kept from my beautiful, wild lover.

  “It’s true,” Nøkkyn said.

  Fenris ignored him. “Sol? Is it?”

  I nodded miserably. “He was to collect me at the Harvest Festival.”

  Fenris closed his great, pale eyes, but not before I saw a flash of pain and shock burn through them.

  “Do you care for this...king?” Fenris asked slowly.

  “No!” I yelped, the words tumbling out of me. “No, stars, no. I hate him!”

  Fenris fixed me with a cool, level gaze. “Then why are you here with him, without your clothing?”

  My skin crawled as tears welled up behind my eyelids. “Because my father died. And my brothers couldn’t cut enough purple oak without him. We didn’t meet the quota. They had to find something to trade to King Nøkkyn, or we’d all starve.”

  “Oh, Sol,” Fenris’s eyes softened. “Why didn’t you tell me? I could have helped.”

  I shook my head hopelessly. Yes, of course Fenris could have helped. He could have joined my brothers in the woods, he could have shared his bread—

  Something silver flashed in the corner of my eye.

  “Fenris!” I yelled.

  King Nøkkyn darted forward, something bright glinting in his hand. He raised his fist to the massive wall of Fenris’s chest and plunged both han
ds between Fenris’s ribs. Fenris flinched, and his pelt rippled. The silver hilt of a dagger winked from deep in his black fur and then vanished as his body whirled, again crushed Nøkkyn beneath his dark claws.

  “You’re an irritating little thing,” Fenris growled.

  “So, you’re the Fenris-wolf,” Nøkkyn panted. “I thought you’d be bigger.”

  Fenris’s lips curled in a snarl as they glared at each other. Then Fenris turned to me. “Sol? Are you willing to pull the king’s little pin from my side?”

  My mouth dry, I nodded and stepped carefully around King Nøkkyn. His eyes followed me, burning with rage and humiliation. But not fear. I swallowed hard, trying to ignore Nøkkyn’s unsettling glare.

  His dagger was buried in Fenris’s side almost as high as my head. Blood seeped from the wound, mixing with his dark pelt. I touched the silver hilt, and Fenris shivered beneath me.

  “I’m sorry,” I said, through gritted teeth.

  Fenris didn’t respond. I wrapped my hands around the dagger’s hilt and yanked hard. The effort sent a surge of sharp pain through my swollen right eye, but the dagger came clean. I landed on the pine needles, smacking myself in the chest with the bloody hilt. Then I turned to Nøkkyn, wondering how many other daggers were hidden in the folds of his dark armor.

  Fenris made a sort of cough and turned back to me, his light eyes dancing. “Are you sure,” he asked, “that I can’t kill him?”

  “It is tempting,” I said as I dropped the dagger to the thick pine duff beneath my feet.

  Still giving Nøkkyn a wide berth, I picked up the shreds of Ma’s precious green dress from the forest floor and folded them into a tight square. Then I walked back to Fenris’s side and pressed the tattered fabric against the hole left by Nøkkyn’s blade. For several long minutes we were all still, my dress pressed to Fenris’s wound, my hands rising and falling with his long, slow breaths as his blood slowly soaked through the green fabric, turning it black.

  King Nøkkyn broke the silence. “Fenris-wolf,” he said, as though we were having a casual conversation around the fireside and he wasn’t being crushed beneath the claws of a legendary monster. “This woman is my whore. But, if you want her, I’m willing to trade my life for hers.”

  I shivered against Fenris’s side.

  “Her life isn’t yours to give,” Fenris growled.

  King Nøkkyn squirmed under Fenris’s toes. “Nevertheless. I’ll relinquish my claim to her, and leave the two of you in peace. She could be yours, Fenris.” He gave us a thin, pale smile that made my stomach churn. “Yours to take wherever your wish. Yours to do...whatever you’d like.”

  Fenris’s sides fell still. I realized he was holding his breath, and I felt a wild surge of hope. Could it possibly be true? Would Nøkkyn let me go, just like that?

  “She is quite lovely,” said Nøkkyn, his dark eyes traveling my body in a way that made my skin crawl. “Those breasts, those hips. And isn’t her hair just the most enchanting shade of—”

  “Quiet,” growled Fenris. His head swung down, almost on top of Nøkkyn.

  “A woman that beautiful. She was going to be quite the prize in my collection,” Nøkkyn drawled.

  Fenris trembled under my hands. “King Nøkkyn,” he began, his voice a low growl.

  “My family!” I cried. My swollen lips made the words sound funny. “Fenris, without the money from King Nøkkyn, they’ll starve!”

  I stepped backward, feeling shaky. I’d almost forgotten about Ma, Jael, and Egren. Where in the Nine Realms would they be if I ran off with Fenris?

  There was a shifting scrape against the earth as Fenris pulled his leg back, and then King Nøkkyn stood before us both, brushing the dirt off his elegant black pants and dark leather breastplate. He gave Fenris a level, affable smile and ignored me completely. I supposed my naked body was resistible, after all.

  “I’m sure something can be arranged,” Nøkkyn said.

  “You will honor your commitment to Sol’s family,” Fenris said in a voice so low and deep I could feel it in my bones.

  King Nøkkyn inclined his head slightly. “I will take care of them,” he said.

  “And you will relinquish all claims to Sol?” Fenris said.

  Nøkkyn waved his hand dismissively. “Consider it done.”

  “Then you may live,” Fenris said. Another low growl rippled through the clearing as his lips pulled back from his teeth. “This time.”

  Nøkkyn’s lips twitched. It occurred to me that he looked victorious, almost as though he were struggling not to smile.

  Fenris shifted against my side, his great bulk lowering. “Sol,” he said. “Climb on.”

  With my heart in my mouth, I grabbed a handful of his thick fur and pulled myself onto his back. When he came to his feet, his back pitching and rolling like a ship in a storm, I couldn’t help but scream.

  His head swung back, and he fixed me with those familiar, pale eyes. “Do you really think I’d let you fall?”

  I tried to smile. He gave a wild sort of cry, something between victory and joy, and we left the clearing without a backward glance. It was only much later that I realized I was completely naked, my Ma’s precious green dress torn, covered with blood, and abandoned in the forest.

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  He did not let me fall, my Fenris.

  We tore through the Ironwood forest like a wild beast, sliding between the trees and leaping over the rivers. Animals fled from us, deer and elk, and once even a great, lumbering bear, although he seemed tiny from my vantage point atop the wolf’s back. The cool, misty air blew against my face, offering some relief from the dull throb of my injuries and, for a moment, I could imagine how free and powerful Fenris felt when he ran through the Ironwood.

  He stopped along the banks of a small, bright river, which pooled at the base of several rocky hills. It may well have been the headwaters of the Lucky but, by that point, I’d completely lost my sense of direction. The bank was smooth and grassy, surrounded by an improbable collection of delicate birch trees that were somehow flourishing in the shade of the massive oaks and pines. Their pale green leaves and white bark made the forest seem lighter.

  Fenris sank to his stomach on the grass. “We’re here,” he said, panting slightly.

  I slid off and looked around. “Where is here?”

  He grinned at me, showing all his monstrous, jagged teeth. “Just wait.”

  His enormous, dark body shuddered, and suddenly the air filled with golden sparks, as though all the fireflies in the Nine Realms were dancing around him. I gasped, hardly realizing I was taking a step back until my shoulders pressed against the papery bark of a birch tree. The light surged and swirled, completely obscuring his body, until it was almost too bright for my eyes to stand.

  Then, it was gone, as suddenly as it had come. And, in the place of the great monster wolf, stood a tall, naked man, with dark auburn hair and light blue eyes. Not a demon, but not exactly a man either.

  “Fenris!” I cried, flinging myself into his arms.

  Demon or monster, it mattered naught to me. Fenris was my lover. He wrapped his arms around me, and we stood together, trembling, as birds called around us, and the sun slowly burned away the mist.

  “My beautiful Sol,” he whispered, his fingers gently tracing my bruised cheek.

  I winced, then remembered Nøkkyn’s cruel dagger. “Your side!” I cried, running my fingers along the ridges of his rib cage.

  The wound lay halfway up his chest, between two ribs. I stepped back, staring at the crimson blood oozing down his pale skin. Of all the things I’d seen today, for some reason that cut between his ribs bothered me the most. It made everything real, somehow. I had been led into the woods by King Nøkkyn and rescued by the monster wolf, Fenris. My beautiful lover had never been a demon, and he’d given me his true name all along. His blood had stained my dress and leaked over my fingers, and now, here, my lover bore the wound of Nøkkyn’s knife.

  This was no dr
eam, then. No story from Bard Sturlinsen. It was all real.

  “Please, let me find some moss for that,” I said.

  Fenris shook his head, his eyes sparkling. “Wait here,” he said.

  He stepped back, disappearing into the birch grove. A bird called from deep within the forest, its voice a light and musical trill, and I had just enough time to wonder what it was. Then Fenris was back with a familiar ivory horn in his hands. My stomach lurched at the sight of it.

  “Oh, no,” I shook my head. “I’ve drunk enough mead for a lifetime, thank you.”

  He grinned. “Just one sip. Trust me.”

  My lip curled as the sweet scent of mead washed over me. “How in the Nine Realms would that help anything?”

  He held out the horn, giving me a smile so joyful it almost hurt.

  Oh, damn. Like I could refuse him anything. I took the horn with a snort and brought it to my mouth. The first tiny sip of mead trickled past my lips, and my body flushed with warmth. I lowered the horn; it was still almost full with glittering golden liquid.

  “I’m not draining it again,” I said.

  Fenris’ smile widened. “That’s better,” he said, running a finger along my lip.

  I braced myself for the shock of pain that would follow. It never came. My eyes widened, and I realized my vision had cleared. I could see out of my right eye. Slowly, I raised my fingers to my own face, tracing my cheek and lips, my eye and chin.

  “I’m better,” I whispered. “The injuries are gone. Fenris, how?”

  He kissed my cheek before responding. “It’s the mead of Val-Hall,” he said. “You do know what they do in Val-Hall all day, don’t you?”

  I frowned, trying to remember the stories I’d heard around the hearth fire. “They fight all day, to train for Ragnarök?”

  “And they feast all night. But how do you think they could feast all night if they’d fought all day?”

  My entire body trembled, and I looked again at the horn of mead. I’d never really believed those stories about Val-Hall; now I held their blessed mead in my hands.

  “It just cures war injuries,” Fenris said, almost apologetically. “Not everything, you know.”